revivalproject | If You Can't Find Hands, Make Them

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If You Can't Find Hands, Make Them

WHO: Tommy Shepherd, Open
WHERE: Greenhouse, Diner, Civics Center Pool
WHAT: Preparations for the Agrii, Pool Boy Shepherd, Faking He's Okay
WHEN: March, mostly mid to late month
WARNINGS: N/A

1. If You Teach A Bot To Weed... | Greenhouse

New helper bots? You better believe Tommy was going to find a way to get them to help him. Not until he tried to name them of course. Give them a chance to be their own people. Life gets weird when you have a sibling and parent who are synthezoids. But anyway, here they were, Tommy and one of the droids that he'd basically affixed some of the Sh'Ka gardening tools to, and Tommy looked exceptionally frustrated.

"No! Not that! That's a good shoot!"

Maybe he was not the best at programming. Building? He was getting better there. But how did you teach a machine what was good and what was bad without being there the whole time.

"Dammit, this might have been a really stupid idea. Maybe the Agrii can do datapoints?"

He looks so frustrated though. And maybe still more than a bit tired. Maybe he wasn't doing this for the Agrii. Maybe he just wanted help.

2. Okay Maybe Just Cleaning | Diner

This, at least, had less of disaster written all over it. The bot seemed to already be doing so well at sweeping and was even wiping down tables well.

"What do you think of Roberto?" he called out to the little machine, which ignored that since it didn't have the right verbal input. Tommy sighed.

"I miss droids that would talk back," he says to himself before he returns to chopping salad at the counter so he can watch the bot work. "You're not really friendly even if you're friend shaped. Though I think some people would be offended at proper AI running things here. So much prejudice against sentient machines."

3. Pool Boy Shepherd Doing All Your Work | Civics Center Roof

Okay, maybe it's not fair to call him a poolboy. But hey, he's by a pool, he's in short shorts and a crop top and flipflops, and he's cleaning up the top of the Civics Center roof. Actually, Tommy's been at it for a few days now. If he's learned anything about the Agrii, it's that they like water, and he wanted to make sure there was a safe place to do that at. He had heard stories, he didn't remember where, that the remains of the flooded area that he and Vision and Katara had reduced back in their first days here could be dangerous. Who knew if the Agrii could handle that.

But hey, if Tommy knew one thing, it was what went into a fucking baller rooftop tropical getaway. He may have 'borrowed' those of wealthy people the world over more than a few times. So on any given day he could be seen at one of many kinds of work. One afternoon it's using a pump system to pump the less than clean water from the pool. Another it's scrubbing the thing thoroughly, usually with some sort of cleaning towels on his feet while he ran around it (friction was a good cleaning method). Another afternoon it's spreading some weird stinky putty stuff that would dry hard that the old guy Reeve gave him into cracks and holes and letting it try. And of course there's the trying to restore the tile work to it.

Frankly, he was giving himself a crash course in pool repairs.

And when he wasn't working on restoring the whole surprisingly deep thing (it made sense now that he knew some Agrii), he was working on the area around it. Some of the plants that had grown up over the top of the building he was carefully trimming back. In other places he was putting young potted trees with wide leaves to create cooling shade, and anchoring their pots down for safety. There were even some things that looked like his attempts at dragging some kinds of cushions up to the roof for reclining. He was trying, even if he wasn't certain exactly what was needed. And after his funk, he deserved applause for doing this much.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"Rather kiss you," he breathes back. But the request doesn't go ignored, and he gives a little one to Tommy's side. His eyes are dark, looking over Tommy like he's the best thing he's ever seen since finding a mirror. "Tired of wearing kid gloves about this. That I might hurt you or that I'm not ready damn it."

He steals another rough kiss and absolutely leans his weight against Tommy. A knee pressed between those legs.

The moment might almost be enough for Tommy to learn to pray to a god. Or maybe sass in the name of one. But the only ones he knows personally are Thor and his brother so hard pass. Instead he groans as he rocks against that provided leg.

Only the lips against his keeps him from sassing the guy though. Billy couldn't physically hurt him without Tommy allowing it. Or he'd point out it was okay to not be ready.

At least he could trust himself to have good breaks if the word comes of course. Which it isn't yet. So he gets his hands up to tug against Billy's shirt, asking for permission.

Billy loves the feeling of Tommy against him, all energy right now as the plans have flipped from having lunch to having a meal. He kisses Tommy like his life is dependent on it and barely stops in time to tug that stupid shirt off. Why was he still wearing it anyways?

Just like Tommy and his shorts, but there's something thrilling about being able to dip his fingers just below the waistband at the back. Teeth nip at Tommy's lips. "Gonna tell me when I do shit wrong, right?"

If Billy were just a bit taller they might get an active demonstration of the idea of 'I'd climb that guy like a mountain.' Thankfully the height difference wasn't as extreme as it could be.

Though fingers actually under his waistband for the first time earns this desperate keening little noise against Billy's lips. One he would deny making later. For now he was also going up in his toes to try and get something more.

And, of course, he kept his hips rocking. No denying now that his shorts were quick close to leaving very little to the imagination. He'd put them in because of hot, hard work. This was a nice perk though.

Billy will get a stool. Make Tommy work for it.

With no protest about his hand exploring new territory, he gets bolder. That hand actually grips his partner's rear, moving with the motion against his leg. There's some weight shifting so he doesn't fall when Billy takes his supporting arm away, and then using it to guide one of Tommy's legs between his. He's wearing longer shorts. Simple ones, no 'JUICY' billboarding on the ass, but they also don't hide anything from his boyfriend.

"Feelin' good there, Tommy?" He leans in nip at one of those earlobes, groaning as he grinds down.

Get a stool and he will walk the fuck away. Probably. Maybe.

That said, Tommy had to hope that, with Billy's hand firmly in new territory, he wasn't about to judge the fact that Tommy was only sorta wearing underwear. Granted it was specially made stuff. A guy gets used to the stuff that supports while not showing lines under a form fitting suit. So the variation on the jockstrap (don't judge him for the dark red color to them if it gets there, he's self conscious of rocking a family color that normally goes to the witch side) left his whole damn ass out for the groping.

"Shit," he groans, leaning into that light brush of pain, his hips jerking forward. There was pain and there was pain and one of those worked for him a bit. "We're, uh... Have we had the talk? About this and my biology?"

The words tumble out in a breathy rush. Urgent and concerned all at once.

Oh no, having no underwear in the way was a bonus. It wasn't like Billy would partake in it half the time anyways. Especially at bedtime.

The jerk of those hips at the bite gets Billy to groan himself. He does this for Tommy. Works him up like this and gets these reactions. Fuck.

Billy picks up his head to look at Tommy with a confused look. His body stops the rocking, holding still so his partner gets his full attention. "Uh... what?"

Shit. No. They hadn't. And he's about to get laughed at. He blushes bright scarlet and moves to hide his face against Billy's (beautiful, biteable, titfuckable, strong, pillowy) chest.

"My body. It does everything fast. Including getting worked up too fast. And recovering fast. Like a cross between a high school freshman and a rabbit one chick called me once. I don't... fuck."

The blush has spread all the way up to his ears now.

"I don't last long the first round. Or second. After that, well, it takes more each time."

No, they really hadn't. The downside of going at Billy's pace it seemed, and another with the guy jumping the gun so quickly. He feels that heat from Tommy's face against his scarred up chest and there is a chuckle. Not a mean one, but an endeared chuckle.

"I should be surprised by this. You do everything fast n' shit, so maybe that's why I'm not?" A glance down to see that Tommy's ears are pink. Heh. Adorable.

His hands all move to cup Tommy's face, trying to put enough pressure to lift them up. "Don't make excuses for blowing your wad early, babe. We both know it's because I am amazingly hot."

No, he probably shouldn't be shocked at all. But it's awkward for Tommy. He would pout over it if Billy were meaner. As it was he was going to refrain from pointing out that he could go for a stupidly long time. Maybe energizer bunny was the better choice of description.

"You're a brat," he declares when he lifts his eyes. "You may be hot and I may be in a hell of a dry spell, but it's definitely not just because you're hot. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't explain it. Honestly if you'd already gotten a handful..."

Well, he would have embarrassed his shorts. And probably Billy's.

His shorts that he was definitely only concealed by at this point because the moment of embarrassment had been a set back.

"Ha! I'm your brat. Remember that." He leans in to press his nose and lips to Tommy's cheek. "Kinda hot knowing my guy can go multiple rounds, really. I like a guy that can wear me out."

He presses a hungry kiss to that cheek and pulls back. "Bet my dry spell's longer than yours. I haven't gotten laid since '85." Now he grins like that's the epitome of humor right there. "Now. You wanna keep going or actually go back down to the kitchen to make lunch? I'll uh. Need a minute or two if that's the case."

Hot? Tommy looks shocked at the statement. He's not used to guys saying that. Girls don't mind as much if he remembers to keep it, well, safe. Which can be a whole thing when you've gotta buy special and need a ton.

"Time games. Cute. As for plans, if you head down for lunch it's happening solo."

"I am cute, thanks for noticing. It's the curls."

Though the thought of leaving Tommy up here to let himself take care of matters flares up something a little hot and jealous. He wants to take care of his partner. Even if it's not full blown sex, Billy wants to do it. Hearing that he'd be going to lunch by himself almost feels like a challenge.

A challenge all in his head, but the blonde slides his hands under his boyfriend's ass and lifts him up. Moves until the speedster gets deposited onto the bed with Billy covering him like a blanket. "Not letting you solo finish anything I started, babe."

That grind starts back up, with feverish kisses hitting anywhere he can find skin at.

If anyone else did this, Tommy would yelp and protest being manhandled. As it was he moaned at the very idea Billy could manhandle him so easily. He really preferred that in guys after all.

Then he's spread on his own bed, half writhing as Billy keeps moving against him.

"What if I don't want to ruin my favorite laundry day shorts?" He gasps out, fingers reaching up to curl in Billy's hair.

If anyone else did that, Billy would send them on an emergency trip to the hospital.

The moan really does it for him as he shifts and pushes until he's got Tommy's legs on either side of his so they can grind - albeit clothed - against each other. "Sounds like you'll have to do more laundry. Or let me get the waistband of them down enough so you can miss them when you shoot."

And Billy's breathy, blue eyes dark as he moves against his boyfriend. The hands in his hair don't go unnoticed as he pulls gently against that hold. A suggestion, if Tommy would like.

Yes he would like. Very much like. Very much like a lot of things.

"Yes," he says with a shuddering breath. And, of course a tug of Billy's hair. "No white hair jokes."

Because while he doesn't have a happy trail, that doesn't mean he fully manscapes at all. Not even remotely. And all of his hair is snowy white. All of it.

"Taking all my fun away," Billy pouts. He tugs his curls against Tommy's hold again. "Wait, hang on-"

He has to pause long enough to wiggle a hand between them. First to get the shorts' waistband down enough like he said - with even a cautious, almost shy stroke against his boyfriend's dick - before going to his own shorts. While Billy doesn't mind doing laundry, it's easier if they're on the same level.

So when he slots their hips back together, he moans at the heat and solidness of it. "Fuck, babe."

Hang on? Hang on?

Hang on he says like Tommy doesn't almost lose it at the light touch from Billy working him free. Like he doesn't almost lose it again at the very sight of Billy working himself free.

What Tommy doesn't manage is to keep himself back the moment he feels the heat, the weight, the solidness against his own. He arcs up against Billy with almost enough strength to buck the guy aside. Probably would if his hands hadn't flown for Billy's hips at impossible speed to hold him there.

He spills in quick, hot spurts rather quickly. It's unmistakeable what the moment is.

It just also happens to be undeniable that he's still completely hard. Painfully hard and aroused. That's just his life.

It’s getting a little rougher between them, now that they’re finding their comfortable level with each other. He feels the press of hands at his hips nearly the same time that Tommy bucks like a bull under him. That motion only makes him thrust back in answer, but he doesn’t need to go that.

Billy looks down between them to marvel at the sight of them moving together. How well they fit like this. Then Tommy’s reaching his peak, splattering both of them with white.

And yet, his guy hasn’t softened. "Fuck, look at you. I should be calling you some names with you hard like that, but I think grinding with you is gonna do the trick for now." He licks his lips. Gives an experimental push again to test the waters.

"Call me whatever you want if you don't stop moving," Tommy whines, the pitch of his voice raising as he keeps rocking his hips against Billy's. If the guy stops moving, he will too, but fuck, he'd hate it.

One of his hands gets brave, grabs a handful of Billy's ass. The other finds the blonde's hair again and gives it a more forceful pull. Still not straight out yanking. But enough to be felt.

"You seem like a talker. I like your voice. Talk dirty to me, if it's your style, sunshine."

That sounds like an open invitation or a test. Billy doesn’t know how far Tommy would be willing to let Billy’s mouth run with names, so he decides not to. Maybe he’ll try later. Or talk to him afterwards.

The grab and the pull sends signals through his body that cause his hips to jerk hard as his groan fills the space of the room. A bead forms at the head between them - he’s close.

"Fuck that’s good. Wanna fuck you into the sheets one day. Wanna watch you come undone under me," he rasps out, feeling his climax approaching.

Talk? Wouldn't that be a miracle for them both.

"Want you to," Tommy promises. "Fuck I want it."

But that is not today. What today can be is his hand leaving Billy's wonderful ass, wiping through the mess he'd made on himself, and then reaching down between them. He's got nothing but confidence as he wraps his hand around them both (okay, only mostly around them, but he made sure Billy got more coverage) for them to fuck into. The increased friction against each other was an added bonus of course.

They do pretty well at talking given how much they keep hidden away. Those thoughts are gone in the heat of pleasure wrapping around him - around them.

Billy’s pressing harder, trying to find more friction, but Tommy supplies it with a helping hand.

"Oh shit, Tommy—" he’s close. Billy knows he’s close. Tommy would feel the throb of him being close. Would the guy have loved to last longer? Yeah, but he really hasn’t gotten anything since June of '85.

Before he can stop and think too much about it - thinking is hard anyways - Billy ducks his head down into Tommy’s neck to start pressing lips and teeth into the skin.

Teeth and lips and the way Billy says his name. They're all like a drug? An itch that gets under his skin. A heat he can't shed.

Maybe another time he'll be embarrassed over the fact that clearly anyone who might be in the diner would hear him shouting Billy's name as he loses it again. Twice before Billy even gets once. Really, it's a gift and a curse all at once.

And still his body aches with want and need, so of course he doesn't stop thrusting. At the very least he owes Billy his own orgasm, and if this helps then it's worth it.

Between them gets messier and it’s enough for Billy to lose it. With a shout of Tommy’s name, Billy adds to the mess between them. It’s splatters on both of their lengths, Tommy’s hand, Tommy’s belly.

Those hips don’t stop, though they stutter as Billy feels the overstimulation of it. He raises up and pushes Tommy’s hand off of them. Replaces it with his own on just his boyfriend‘s length.

And in a breathy voice, "tell me what you like for this."

rated r for the boys getting f r i s k y

Re: rated r for the boys getting f r i s k y

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